Rubriche
Not us
Claudia Bonadonna | 25-11-2007 | ENG
(Translated by Anamaría Crowe Serrano)
A manifesto "against". Here's everything we don't want to be. All the stories we want to entrust to the future. The world is careless, fortuitous, mean. Not us.

The world is careless, fortuitous, mean. Not us.
Maybe we are mean. Just a little.
Insofar as we're not prepared to comply.
We're keen to see the bigger picture, broaden our search.
Get our hands dirty and dig where others rush past, attracted by the dazzle of ephemeral glitz.
We clench fistfulls of clay and blow the dust from diamonds that might be mistaken for stones…
It can take a gentle breeze, a sweeping gust or a hurricane. After all, everyone has their own pace, every footprint its own inner music…
We're not here to convince.
More, to reveal.
Open our hands and let the light add colour to the greyness of mist.
For whoever will look.
For whoever can see.
The finest treasures are not for everyone, but for those who truly deserve them.

The world is careless, fortuitous, mean. Not us.
Maybe we are careless. Just a little.
Insofar as we are prepared to be easily led.
We happily slide over common sense so as to arrive at a different sense of things.
A tiny change of focus that blurs the view and brings new, individual details to the fore.
But the scene isn't finished. It simply offers a better way of seeing.
It's the confusion you feel when you're on the edge of the abyss and the landscape on the other side splits in two.
Desire and fear.
Vertigo at the narrow crevice that opens onto depths of meaning.
For whoever will jump.
For whoever can make that leap.
It takes courage to go beyond our own boundaries.

The world is careless, fortuitous, mean. Not us.
We are mindful. Always.
Of impossible paths.
Of ways of digging, conveying.
Burried images, lost particulars, new interpretations.
Imagination and endurance.
We walk along swarming streets and leave our mark. Lightly but assured.
Deep down and sideways.
Is it really possible to move like this?
Of course not. But it's nice to think that the trilobites might have shuffled along in a similar way before entrusting himself to the eternity of rock.

The world is careless, fortuitous, mean. Not us.
We're something else... All the stories we want to entrust to the future.

(November 25, 2007)

Photo by Dave McKean